Chapter 23 #2
“She came to me with stars in her eyes about an internship in London. She said she felt like she needed to do it, and I was happy for her. Over the fucking moon, actually. But I was also confused because I had no idea she had even applied for it. I had no idea she was looking. How messed up is that? She’s my wife, and I had no idea what was happening in her life.
I was so damn focused on me and my own shit that I didn’t think about it. ”
A look of pity crosses Lawson’s face, and it takes everything I have not to reach over the booth and smack it away. “Come on, Kells. That’s not your fault. We’re busy guys. Yeah, we’re playing a game, but it’s still a lot to keep up with. It could have happened to anyone.”
I shake my head. “No, you don’t get it, Lawsy. We’ve been together since I was nineteen. That’s almost thirteen years ago. Do you have any idea how long that is to know someone? To be someone’s partner? A long fucking time.”
But he doesn’t get it. How could he? Before Rory, he wasn’t exactly celibate. He has no idea what it’s like to love someone like I love Chloe. He really doesn’t know what it’s like to build a life with someone and have it ripped away from you twice. He doesn’t know anything at all.
“I should have known,” I say, reaching for yet another shot and tossing it back. I cringe as the alcohol burns on the way down. “I should have fucking known.”
“You should also probably slow down,” he says, moving the remaining glass out of my reach.
I don’t even bother arguing with him. What’s the point? Hell, what’s the point of anything anymore?
“The point is that she’s here now.”
Shit, did I say that out loud? Am I drunk?
He slides a cup of water my way, and I realize I must be because I have no idea where the drink even came from.
Still, I take it, gulping half of it in one go.
I belch loudly, and even that reminds me of her.
All I can think of is how she would cover her mouth and look mortified by something natural.
Fucking hell, I miss her.
“But she’s not. She’s not here.”
“Not technically, but you said her note said she was coming back, right?”
Fuck, did I tell him that?
“Yeah.”
“Then believe her,” Lawson says. “Let her show you she means it. Give her time. Give her space.”
But I have. I’ve given her so much space and so much time, and I don’t want to anymore. I told her I’d wait for her, and I meant it. I will, but I’m not going to pretend I’m okay because I’m fucking not. I’m not okay.
Lawson senses that, and as his lips pull downward, all the tequila I just downed tries to fight its way back up my throat.
“I’m—”
“Don’t,” I warn him. “Don’t you dare tell me you’re sorry, Lawson. Not you. Anyone but you.”
His brows pull downward, but he nods. “All right. I won’t say it. But, Keller?”
I sigh, running a hand over my face, which feels hot and a little tingly. “What?”
“You’re always the first to drop the gloves out on the ice, and I’ve always respected the hell out of you for that. So do that this time too. Fight for her. If you love her, fight. Don’t let this be the end. Just fight.”
I hear his words. I really do. But sometimes, it gets to a point where fighting isn’t worth it anymore. As much as I don’t want that to be the case with Chloe, I might have to just accept that I’m the only one in this battle.
She’s my wife, and I love her, but maybe…maybe it’s time to let her go.
Every hockey player knows at a certain point in the season, even the most skilled and seasoned fighters decide to keep their gloves on, especially when their team is in the position the Serpents are in.
Apparently, the fuckhead from Vegas didn’t get the memo, and he picked the wrong person to mess with tonight.
I’m hungover thanks to my little trip to Top Shelf yesterday, and I’m fucking angry because I still haven’t heard from Chloe.
I even texted her last night and got nothing in response.
“Come on, 10.” He cross-checks me right on top of my pants. “I thought you were the goon. I thought it was you they sent out when they want to fire up the crowd. What?” Another shove as I battle to keep the puck away from him. “Can’t get it up now that your team is down four to zero?”
Ignore him, I say to myself. Just fucking ignore him.
“Fuck off,” I tell him, turning around and giving him a taste of his own medicine, shoving my stick against his chest.
“Nah, don’t think I will. Maybe it’s not just your wife you can’t get it up for.”
As soon as the word wife leaves his lips, I lose all ability to hold myself back, and I attack. The edges of my vision go blurry, but I can still see him as I grab his jersey and land a blow right to his cheek.
“Come on, you fucker!” I scream as my fist connects with his face again. “You wanted a fucking fight, didn’t you?”
He stumbles, but I steady him as I lay another blow.
“You bastard!” he yells as he tries to swing at me but misses.
I laugh, and it only pisses him off more. Faintly, I can hear sticks being smashed against the boards, and I can feel the other players trying to drag me off the guy, but I fight them all.
“Hey, hey! That’s enough!” someone says, but I keep going.
I have to keep going. I can’t stop now. I’m supposed to fight, aren’t I? That’s what I’m on this team for, and that’s what I’m doing with Chloe too. I’m fighting.
Her demons.
Punch.
Her insecurities.
Punch.
My own bullshit issues.
Punch.
For our fucking marriage.
“All right, all right,” someone yells in my ear, grabbing me by the shoulders and trying to pull me off the limp player in my hands.
When did he go down? Where did all this blood come from? I blink once, twice, and the bright lights and roaring cheers come back into focus. What the hell just happened?
“You’re good. You’re good,” the voice in my ear says, and they’re still clutching me tight. “You’re good, Keller.”
I try to shrug him off, but he keeps hold of me as I skate toward the box.
“No, no. You’re done for the night.”
“What?” I push at him as he drags me in the opposite direction. “What the fuck for?”
“You hit him with your stick. Right to the face.”
“Bullshit, I did!”
“You did. We saw it. Everyone did. You’re done.”
I try to scramble out of his hold, but it’s pointless. I’m tired. So fucking tired. I can feel it in my bones, right down to my core.
“All right, all right,” I say as he pushes me toward the door on the bench. “I’m going!”
I hop up the step, and someone pats me on the back as I head down the tunnel, ripping my helmet off and throwing it who knows where. Behind me, I can hear the crowd gasping and oohing, but I don’t stop to see what’s going on.
I need to sit down. Or lie down. I don’t know which. All I know is I need to get somewhere else and fast. My lungs are burning, my eyes are watering, and I’m on the verge of a panic attack in the very last place I ever wanted to have one.
I make it to the locker room just as the tears begin to fall, and it takes everything in me not to drop to my knees right then.
I stumble to my stall and finally collapse.
Everything from the last two months—no, from the last three years—all comes out in one long wail, and if I cared at all in this moment, I would be embarrassed, but I’m not. I’m just really, really fucking sad.
I sit like that for a long time, tears streaming down my face, my heart thundering in my chest, and blood pumping in my ears. I don’t know when I finally calm down, but when I do, the rest of the team is piling into the room. From the looks of it, the game didn’t get any better.
Nobody speaks to me. In fact, very little is said, and most people are in and out of the showers, packing up to go home in under ten minutes.
Coach Smith claps me on the shoulder. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
I nod, but I don’t make a move to leave. I’m not eager to go back to an empty apartment anyway. When I finally look up, I expect it to just be me, but it’s not. Hayes, Locke, Fox, Hutch, and Lawson sit in their own stalls, all of them fully dressed, just like me.
I look every one of them in the eye, then say, “Well? Which one of you is going to tell me what a fuckup I am?”
“You’re a fuckup,” Hutch says.
“A big one,” Locke agrees. “Pretty sure you’re getting suspended for that one.”
Hayes nods. “At least a game.”
“Maybe two,” Fox adds.
I drag my eyes to Lawson. “Nothing to add?”
“I mean, when I told you to fight yesterday, I didn’t mean actually fight.”
I feel the edges of my lips tip up just the slightest, but they drop as quickly as it came on.
They’re right. I messed up big-time. I don’t even remember hitting the other guy with my stick, but I trust the ref when he says I did.
And if my hand hurts as badly as it does, that means I lost control. I’m screwed.
“What happened out there, Keller?” Hutch asks.
“I… Fuck.” I sigh. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“The beginning,” Fox says. “It’s usually a pretty good place.”
So, I do. I tell them everything, from meeting Chloe at college to our wedding, everything leading up to Chicago, and her getting the internship.
Then I tell them about the last three years and how we barely talked.
About how I fucking ached for her. How my heart felt like it was sitting outside my chest at all times.
How I’ve been having panic attacks. How when she finally came to me, I felt alive for the first time in years.
And how when she left, I died all over again.
By the time I’m done, I’m crying again, and fuck if I give a shit. I don’t care about anything at all. Not anymore.
“You know,” Hutch says, being the first to speak per usual, “maybe if you had come to us before, we could have helped you through this.”
They all nod.
“You wouldn’t have had to shoulder this alone,” Locke says.
“He still doesn’t have to shoulder it alone. We’re still here, aren’t we?” Fox looks around. “I mean, I know we aren’t technically a club anymore, but we’re still friends, right?”